What Uncles Are For
by sillysillypanda
Summary: Sage wisdom freely shared at the birth of a new generation. Features older Gaang and kids. Because they're more than just a gang- they're a family. And family means protecting and reassuring and loving, in times of weakness and of joy.
1. From Their Hearts and Minds

**Disclaimer: A:TLA and A:LoK are not mine. **

Aang comes sprinting down the hallway, adding a little gust in his step to speed himself along. It's been a day far too full of nothing— greeting visiting dignitaries and politely accepting gifts and idly chitchatting about the condition of his wife and son.

His son.

That's where he's headed now, running in a most undignified manner along the wooden hallways of their house, to the room where Katara is resting with baby Bumi. It's been three days since the birth, and Aang has never been happier, though his Avatar duties of keeping the peace – in other words, of not offending various nations by refusing to entertain their ambassadors – have never seemed more of a bother. All he wants to do is lie in bed with Katara all day long and marvel over Bumi's tiny hands, coo over his every gurgle and burp.

The door is ajar. Aang is about to burst in, when he hears a soft voice. He peeks through the crack.

Katara is asleep, long hair loosened and fanning across the pillows, and Aang pinches himself for the hundredth time, wondering how exactly he managed to be so lucky to have such a wife.

But Bumi isn't in cradled in her arms. After a moment of temporary panic, he sees his baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, being rocked back in forth by a figure pacing the room.

Sokka. He and Suki had been spending the year in Kyoshi Island, and Sokka had insisted on traveling to Republican City before Katara had gone into labor, despite his sister's insincere protesting. Katara had been more than glad, Aang knows, to have her big brother with them to welcome the newest addition to the family.

Sokka is the one talking, softly, to Bumi. Aang leans in a bit closer, the tone of Sokka's voice – light, but not the normal baby-talk that Aang has been employing for the last three days – making the Avatar reluctant to burst in and interrupt the moment.

* * *

"So it isn't going to be easy," Sokka is saying, in a serious tone that Aang still isn't quite used to hearing from his brother-in-law, "I know your mother doesn't want me to tell you this, hell, she'd probably sock me—get it? – straight into next week if she knew I were telling you this, but the thing is, I can tell you're bright. I see it in those big grey eyes of yours. They're clear, just like mine; we see the world the same way, you and I. So I'm going to tell if to you straight, okay, little buddy?

It's hard, not being a bender. Really, really hard. Especially when your kid siblings are. Now, I know, I know, you don't have anything siblings _yet_, you just being born and all, but you will. You know that as well I do, don't you? Your parents can barely keep their hands off each other; they're in love, which is awesome, blah blah blah. It weirds me out, and it'll probably weird you out too, but still.

You know that chances are, whatever siblings you have will end up being benders. Air benders, water benders, watery-air benders, airy-water benders, whatever. I don't really know how this whole bending thing works, obviously, but when your dad's the Avatar and your mom's the strongest water bending master in this side of a century, well, it's just a matter of time.

What I _do_ know, and what I want you to know too, is that it's going to be hard to see your kid siblings doing all sorts of craaaaazy nonsense, and not being able to join in. To want to protect them, but not being able to because how on earth can a good head and a boomerang compete with the ability to shoot fire out of your flippin' hands? Am I right?

But I know you're a strong kid. Just like me: strong, and smart, and extremely good looking, if I do say so myself. You got all that from your mom's side of the family, and don't you forget it, little man. Your dad, well, he's okay, I guess, being the Avatar and all, but he's not always the smartest fishy in a school of panther-barracudas, if you catch my drift. Oh, you do catch my drift, that must be why you're spitting up all over me. Cute.

Well, anyways, like I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me… what was I saying?

Oh yeah, panther-barracudas. Aang… he's got a lot on his plate, you know? He's got the pressure of being the Avatar and making sure all the nations at least keep from destroying each other. He's got the pressure of being the last Airbender, and hoping against hope that maybe somehow he can keep an entire race from dying out. And on top of that, for some reason he decided to marry my crazy sister, which is a whole lot of pressure in and of itself, I bet.

So it's going to be a bit of a juggling act for your dad. Take today, for example. He wanted, more than anything, to be with you today. You saw how he practically had to earthbend the ground beneath him to force himself out the door. But his Avatar duties came first. Not because they're more important than his daddy-duties, but because he's trying to build a world that you can grow up in happily, and to do that, he needs to attend to his Avatar-ness. From now on, you and your mom and your siblings are going to be the first reason your dad does anything. Even if it feels like he's abandoning you sometimes, to do his Avatar duties, or his Airbender duties, you have to know that everything he does, he does for you. Even if that means leaving you behind, sometimes. I mean, take me for instance. Your granddad left me alone in the South Pole with your mom and a bunch of villagers when we were just kids, not because he didn't love us, but because he loved us enough to try to make a better world for us. Your dad's the same way.

Yes, I know, I know, he wanted his first child to be an airbender. Oh, come on, don't give me that look, Bumi. Don't cry, don't cry, please don't cry. You're tougher than that, little man.

See? I knew you were made of sterner stuff. Besides, it's not like I'm telling you something you didn't already know. It's no secret that your dad doesn't _want_ to be the last airbender, and the easiest way to ensure that he can pass on that legacy is by passing it on to his kids.

But that doesn't mean he loves you any less than he would if you had been a bender. It just means that there's a part of him, the airbender part, that you might not be able to share with him. But the bigger part of him, the part that is Aang, and human… the part that your mom fell in love with, and the part that I. with the fewest misgivings possible, agreed to let my baby sister marry… that part is all yours, nephew.

All-powerful Avatar or not, though, he won't be able to teach you what it is to be a non-bender in a bending world.

So. _I'm_ going to teach you what it is to be a non-bender. It's about being smart, because these silly benders think they can just pound and pound away at a problem until it disappears. Take your Auntie Toph, for example. Was that a shudder or a burp? I think it was a shudder, but a burp seems to be an appropriate response too, now doesn't it. She's the kind who just whacks away again and again and hopes that something different happens. That, my nephew, is the definition of insanity. She's absolutely _cuckoo_. Me, I'm going to teach you how to break a problem using your head, by looking at it creatively and from all the angles you can. And I'm going to teach you how to convince people to listen to what you say, not because you'll burn them to a crisp if they don't, but because what you're saying makes sense. I'm going to teach you how to lead people, from their hearts and their minds.

And I'm going to teach you how to trounce anyone, bender or not, with nothing more than your quick wits and a boomerang in the air and a trusty sword at your side. I can best Firelord Zuko in a duel now, did ya hear? That's not something to sneeze at, now is it?

And I'll teach you how to rise above watching your little sister control water with just her mind and splashing you with every chance she gets, or watching this tiny ant-shrimp of a boy flying through the air, taunting you without ever meaning to or even knowing it. I'm going to teach you how to become stronger than just wishing you could do that too. The key is self-confidence, and the knowledge that you are worth every bit as much as they are, bender or not. Anything they can do, you can do too; your way is just different, is all. Humor helps too—if you can laugh at yourself, you can laugh at anything, and if you can laugh, well, nothing seems quite so bad and unfair anymore, right?

And more than anything else, I just want you to know, that if you ever need anything, Aunt Suki and Uncle Sokka's house is always open to you, okay, little buddy?"

* * *

Katara stirs, and Sokka stops pacing to glance at his sister. Her eyes are just barely fluttering open, brilliant blue, when she suddenly jolts awake.

"Bumi," she says, sitting straight upright, sleep-dazed eyes frantically searching the room.

"Right here, sis," Sokka holds up his nephew as proof, "I was worried you'd roll over and squish him in your sleep, so I rescued him."

Katara visibly loosens, relaxing back into the pillows, holding her arms out for her baby, "Gimme."

"What's the magic word?" Sokka sing-song teases, but he hastily places the child in his mother's arms as Katara fixes him with a death stare.

Aang decides that the time is ripe to enter. He knocks lightly on the door as he pushes it open with his hand instead of a burst of breeze, for once. He finds that for some reason, he can't meet Sokka's pale blue eyes, clear as baby Bumi's. Sokka's always been able to see through him, ever since that day in the Southern Water tribe when two siblings found the century-lost Avatar hidden away in an ice bubble.

He kisses his wife, and sits on the edge of their bed, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on his son. Bumi, of the clear eyes, beams toothlessly and adoringly up at his parents.

Aang can feel Sokka looking at the three of them. Aang can feel Sokka _seeing _the three of them, and wonders not for the first time if this is what Sokka can bend. Not elements, nothing so tangible and pedestrian as fire or air, but information. Knowledge. Intuition. Heart.

If so, Aang muses as he looks at Bumi, unable to tear his gaze away, there is no better mentor for this child.

"Thank you, Sokka," he whispers, feeling all of twelve-years old and so unsure of himself all over again.

Sokka doesn't ask why Aang is thanking him. The water tribesman is smart. He knows that Aang was listening at the door. He knows that he managed to put the Avatar's feelings into words better than the airbender ever could.

"No problem, little bro," he mutters back, sitting on the other side of Katara, "That's what uncles are for."

* * *

**A/N For my big brother, 'cause I know you read these. Thanks for always being the Sokka to my Katara. :)**

**Next is Honora, with Uncle advice from Iroh. **


	2. The Greatest Gift of Honor

**Disclaimer: A:TLA and LoK are not mine. **

_The Greatest Gift of Honor_

"You're brooding again," Mai doesn't even have to look up from her book as she lies in bed, hand resting protectively over her swelled stomach, "I've told you not to brood around the baby."

"I am not brooding," Zuko protests from the heavily stuffed armchair – deep red velvet, of course – next to their imperial bed.

Mai shoots him a skeptical glance, and he forces his face into the most comically cheerful grin that's ever graced the face of a Firelord.

Mai snorts and returns to her novel, "You're not fooling anyone, dear. Now calm down; Uncle will be here any minute now."

"But he ought to have been here half an hour ago—" Zuko begins, before he remembers that he's supposed to be pretending that he's not brooding—ahem, worrying – about Uncle Iroh's imminent arrival.

The tiny smirk on his wife's lips – so subtle that only one who has known her as long and as well as he has could ever notice it – lets him know that his slip-up has been duly noted.

"It's a long way from Ba Sing Se," she idly flips a page, "And Uncle's not getting any younger. Travel takes time, Zuko."

"Quite a lot of time, my sweet niece," a familiar voice says from the doorway, "As does convincing the palace guards that a simple teashop owner actually has business here. But it seems that this old man is still spry enough to sneak his way into the Firelord's chambers."

"Uncle!" Zuko's neck turns so fast that he can hear the vertebrae s_nap!_ and he leaps out of his chair to embrace Iroh.

Mai struggles to rise to greet him as well, but Iroh waves her off, extracting himself from Zuko and coming over to kiss her, fatherly, on the forehead. He rests his wrinkled palms on the curve of his growing great-niece – the healers from the Northern Water Tribe had confirmed it – and sighs contentedly.

"Let me have a look at you!" he exclaims afterwards, whirling around to hold his nephew at arms' length, "You look well, nephew."

It's a lie, and all three of them know it. Zuko doesn't look well—he looks pale, and thin, and tired. The first hints of grey are starting to streak prematurely through his dark hair, and his burn scar is more prominent than ever amongst the new bags beneath his eyes and wrinkles across his forehead.

It's his golden eyes, though, that complete the picture. They look hollow, haunted.

"Excuse me, Uncle," Mai is using that silky-smooth tone that immediately puts her husband on the defensive. It's always reminded him, however vaguely, of hidden daggers waiting to fly, "I know you and Zuko have so much catching up to do. Do you mind terribly if Zuko entertains you in the pavilion? It's just that the healers have been telling me to try to sleep early…"

"Of course," Uncle bows his head slightly in acquiesce, "I was about to suggest that myself. You must take care yourself, Mai."

"Thank you, Uncle," she favors him with a rare sincere grin as she nestles down into her pillows.

Zuko shoots her a suspicious look – the healers gave her no such instructions. He would know; he's made it his duty to hound the fleet of royal healers he appointed to looking after the Firelady ever since she first told him the news eight months ago.

_Hovering, _was what the head healer had labeled his behavior, with a condescending smile that Zuko was not at all sure he approved of.

It's preposterous. He is the Firelord. He does not brood, and he certainly does not _hover. _That sounds like a job for an Airbender; from the letters the two had been exchanging with terrifying frequency in the past few months, Aang had been doing his fair share of hovering over Katara and their newborn son.

But now he's being an ungracious host, and that won't do.

He shoots Mai one last narrow-eyed glance, which she patently ignores, before following Uncle out the door and into the open-air courtyard.

It takes around three hours of lecturing about the wonders of putting tapioca balls into cooled tea before Iroh is able to wear Zuko down into spilling his worries.

"Uncle," the Firelord feigns nonchalance as he stares up at the waxing moon, "Hypothetically speaking, if a… a baby, let's say… has a family history of, uhm, turning out not so... well… not so great, what do you think the chances are that said baby might inherit said… err… unsavory traits? Hypothetically speaking, of course, I mean, it's for a friend. A friend of a friend. Whose wife is, uhm, I mean, who's trying to get his wife pregnant, and, er… they have a family history of… uh… I mean, his sister had a really bad chronic case of the… the Mondays… uhh…"

Uncle is gentle as he lets the younger man trail off awkwardly, "She will not be like your sister, Zuko."

The tips of Zuko's ears burn red at being read so easily, but he can't stop now that he's started. This is something he can't tell Mai – Mai, who turned her back on said insane, megalomaniac sister. Mai, who is equally worried, if less obviously so, about being a parent with her own family history of dysfunctions. Mai, who has dealt with more than her fair share of royal pains in the asses.

"But Uncle, if Azula was born crazy, that means that there's something—_something _– in our family line that makes us more likely to be diabolical tyrants. I mean, in the past four generations of Firelords, we're something like 5 for seven in terms of going, y'know," he whirls as finger around his temple as his eyes bulge, "So what if there's something in our blood – in _my _blood – that will someday possess my daughter and turn her into…" he cringes, remembering the last time he visited his sister in her cell. It's the thing that his nightmares are made of, and it seems that all he's had lately are nightmares.

"And if it's not hereditary… that means that there's something about the way we bring up our kids that drives them insane. Something that Sozin passed on to Azulon that he passed on to my father, which means that I… what if… I've tried so hard, Uncle, to not be my father, but it's so easy to slip into it. Every decision I make, I find myself questioning if he would have done the same thing, because he's all I've ever really known about Firelords, y'know? What if I do that with my daughter? What if there's some switch that flips when she's born, and I become like him because that's all I've ever known about fathers?"

And then, so quietly that Uncle has to lean forward to hear, "What if she hates me like I hated him? And what if I deserve it?"

Iroh is still for a long, long time, pretending not to see the teardrops glistening down his nephew's disfigured face.

"Zuko," he says slowly, "I have always, always, considered you to be my son. Is Ozai really all you know of fathers?"

Zuko's frenzy stills.

Uncle continues, "And there is nothing diseased or soiled about our blood, Firelord Zuko. We are more than the fate of our fathers, you know. You, of all of us, should know that."

Slowly, creakily, Iroh rises to his feet, "Your father failed you, my nephew, my son. But that was because he was a weak, short sighted man who could not look past his own ambition to see the wonder that was his eldest child. He had no heart, and no honor."

"Whatever else anyone can say, however you try to measure yourself against Ozai, know that your eyes burn brighter than your father's ever did, Zuko, and you know all there is to know of honor. You will never, never, fail to see your daughter for the treasure that she is. You will learn, Firelord, that the greatest honor a man can have is being a father.

"Now, excuse me, child, but it is late and I am not as young as I used to be, "Iroh grins, and inclines his head, "I must rest these old, old bones of mine." He doesn't wait for an answer, but shambles off, humming to himself as he sniffs the delicate flowers on his way to the guest quarters.

For the longest time, Zuko sits in the courtyard, and sips his tea.

**A/N Mulan reference! :3 And yay for awkward Zuko!**


End file.
